Opening day, at a magnificent garden: The 'heart and soul' of roses in Syracuse returns

Even until the day before, Danny Magaro wasn't sure he'd show up to see the roses. He turned 94 last month - not that his age has ever slowed him down - but he had a significant problem: A few months ago, he stopped into a fast-food place for a sandwich on Henry Clay Boulevard.

Danny tripped and fell. He broke his leg. That meant, at least temporarily, he couldn't do the thing he loves more than all else in the world:

The Syracuse Rose Society cares for the garden, established in 1922 - which makes it just a little younger than Danny. You can find volunteers there every Wednesday, and typically on Saturdays. Danny, a past president, is "our heart and soul," as Mary Pat McHale and Pam Dooling, officers with the society, both put it.

Still, Danny worried he'd be unable to attend last Wednesday's Rose Day, the annual celebration of a jewel of Syracuse. He hadn't made it to a single volunteer gathering all spring, the first time in decades that anything's managed to keep Danny away from Thornden Park.

On Rose Day, to the joy of all his friends, Danny was there. His daughter Deborah came through for him, driving Danny and his wife Antoinette to the park, where their arrival was seen as what it was.

A homecoming.

"We love him so," said Dorothy Storms, 84, of Camillus, who receives similar reverence at the garden. She quietly examined some of the rose beds with Danny, then settled onto a bench, in the shade, alongside Danny and Jim Wagner, 84, who wore a white fedora.

With them: Danny's wife, Antoinette. "I'm his secretary," said Antoinette, who was kidding, sort of. She referred to the number of phone calls the guy still gets, at 94.

The conversation on the bench was jubilant, built around how glorious the garden looks this year. Danny and his friends agreed that one factor accentuates the explosion of color from 6,000 rose bushes, in 385 varieties.

Mulch.

"Last year," Danny said, "this place was a disaster. It looked awful. It looked like we came in here and planted grass."

Dooling got down on her knees, reached into the soil, and snapped off a green example of the enemy: A plant called "bindweed" made its way into the flower beds, and all the weeding in the world couldn't seem to keep it out. The volunteers, faced with that challenge, debated. Danny - this guy not so far from 100 - was among the leaders in saying they needed to make a change, that embracing mulch was the only option.

They'd never mulched, not in a big way, but they decided to try it. So the city of Syracuse provided plenty of the stuff, acquired through the Onondaga County Resource Recovery Agency. The volunteers put down mulch atop many layers of newspaper, spread across the rose beds.

The result triggered general agreement from those walking last week through the aromatic garden:

"This is gorgeous," said Erik Heden, a Binghamton meteorologist who loves roses. He belongs to the society. He often makes a 90-mile drive, both ways, for meetings. He showed up for Rose Day with his wife Rebekah and their children, Kayleigh, Christian and Matthew.

"What makes this special," Heden said, "is the volunteers, and how hard they work."

He paused to appreciate the trappings of Rose Day: Many visitors wore elaborate hats. Musicians provided live music, in a gazebo. Several parents or grandparents brought children to the garden, which Fran Piraino saw as a sign of hope for confronting the rose society's main challenge.

At 53, she's considered a younger participant. The rose society, under the leadership of president Pat Pohl, still has more than 200 members. Many volunteers are in their 80s, or even - as in Danny's case - their 90s. The society has always depended on selfless commitment, and Piraino said one way it's confronting that reality is with a step she helped the membership to take:
A Facebook page.

"We're getting up there," said Dooling, who believes the central selling point is a captivating truth, epitomized not only by Danny but by Heden's 2-year-old son Matthew, who studied brilliant roses with such names as Abraham Lincoln (red and fragrant) or Marilyn Monroe (apricot and absolutely beautiful).

Even in a digital age, roses remain timeless - with appeal for everyone.

Danny, who's always maintained the blossoms keep him young, made his way around the garden with the help of a metal walker. Wherever he went, he accepted hugs or greetings from volunteers. He saw Dottie White, a longtime friend who - as Danny put it - "came for a visit and never left."

He stopped to study the roses with Deb Holihan, a sculptor from Liverpool who said she first made a pilgrimage to the garden to sample all the beauty - little realizing she'd soon be helping to sustain it.

On that first visit, she met Danny, the soul of the place. He started talking to her about what the garden means, the passionate philosophy he'll share with anyone, the philosophy that is a mix of faith and diligence and community.

When he left, he made a point of telling her goodbye.

Before long, Holihan came back.

Danny, years ago, used to drive a truck. He also worked as a warehouse supervisor. Once he retired, some friends told him about the rose garden. Like Holihan, he stopped by, simply to see it.

At 94, despite a broken leg, he's still there.

"What we do here, we talk," Danny said. "We have discussions. We decide what's best. No one tells each other what to do. You do that, anyplace, you're better off."